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Sunday, August 31, 2014

Several people have expressed interest in rock balancing, so I decided to do a separate post on balancing rocks in Narragansett.

My husband and I have very different styles. He is a performer (a professional musician) and doesn't mind balancing rocks where there are lots of people around to interact with. He tends to create a lot of balances in a short amount of time...and keeps going! And he doesn't mind working in the intense heat of the midday, summer sun.

I, on the other hand, prefer to retreat to a more private, picturesque spot and make it a meditation, thinking photographically. My balances are smaller and simpler than his, but I find beauty within the simplicity.

It's all good.

At Scarborough Beach on our first day of vacation, I wandered off to adjacent Black Point to explore the tidal pools and found the perfect, quiet spot to balance rocks.

By the time I returned to the beach, Jack had created more balances than I could count and was attracting a lot of attention. Most everyone who walked by stopped to take pictures. As we began to pack up at the end of the day, a boy who appeared to be about 12 years old came along with his mother, siblings (I'm guessing), and a long stick. I watched him wind up, wondering if he'd dare to follow through, and then - smack! - he knocked down one of Jack's balances. When his mother realized the artist was close by and had witnessed the act of destruction, she apologized and promised her son would put them back like they were. We had to laugh because that wasn't possible; it takes skill and practice! We'd always wondered who was responsible for knocking down rock balances, and now we had the answer: Boys with sticks!

The next morning, I got up at dawn to experience and photograph the sunrise over the ocean. Then I headed back to Black Point and found three of my five balances still standing on the rim of a tidal pool.

I walked back to the beach to see which of Jack's balances lasted through the night.

On my way back to the car, I stopped to fully savor the waves crashing against the rocks and created a few more simple balances. The sound of crickets accompanied the sound of the waves in a soothing, coastal symphony. The rhythmic sounds and aromatic ocean air, along with the feel of the wind against my skin and the rocks in my hands - all within such a magnificent landscape - was a wonderful sensory experience. To awaken so many senses simultaneously is to feel truly alive!

Later in the day, we headed to Point Judith to balance more rocks. Here are a couple of mine:

And here are some of Jack's. (He created many more balances that were difficult to photograph due to their angle relative to the ocean and sun.)

Looking toward the lighthouse, we noticed some rock balances and before leaving took a walk to check them out. We were astonished to find easily upwards of 500 rock stacks, balances, and arrangements! I couldn't capture an image that illustrates the sheer number of balances or the vastness of the area. It was nearly overwhelming to be in the midst of it!

The next morning, I woke up bright and early and went to the same spot as the previous morning to view the sunrise. Then I walked along the rock jetty opposite the lighthouse and was drawn to a quiet spot to balance rocks as waves crashed against the jetty and onto the beach. I can say without hyperbole that I've never felt more in my element than when balancing rocks at sunrise at the ocean in complete solitude (although kayaking and playing piano under the right circumstances come close). I love how simple balances look with waves crashing around them. Something about that really speaks to me of achieving balance within the "full catastrophe" of life, to borrow a phrase from Jon Kabat-Zinn. I played around with the same base rock and different combinations and angles on top.

Meanwhile, Jack prepared to head to a beach very close to the house where he had balanced lots of rocks the previous day. He found them still standing and noticed kids approaching them to knock them down. However, older people intervened to protect the rocks and thanked him for beautifying their beach with art.

The temporary and vulnerable nature of balanced rocks is part of its appeal, in my opinion, for it mirrors the transitory nature of life. It's much like a sand mandala that Tibetan Buddhist monks create with great patience, devotion, and attention to detail, only to have it ritualistically destroyed and the sand returned to nature.

After publishing this post, I'm heading to my classroom to get set up and am bringing a basket of ocean rocks with me. This year, I intend to introduce my kindergartners to rock balancing, stacking, and arranging!

--------------------------------- The photographs in this blog (except for those attributed to other owners) and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.

Friday, August 29, 2014

So, I ended my last blog post by saying that I planned to have two more adventures before August is over. I didn't know what they would be but felt they would involve rocks and water. And it turned out my next adventure involved LOTS of rocks and water! How it manifested was truly amazing. Sometimes I am astonished by the ways of the universe and need to write in order to remember that gifts can arise completely expected out of the blue!

My husband and I had been talking about him taking a couple days off from his summer job so we could go to the ocean. We were thinking we'd go to Rhode Island like we did last year and probably get a hotel room for a night so we could have two beach days. It was the day before we had planned to go away, and he still hadn't requested the time off. And I hadn't looked into making a hotel reservation because I wasn't sure we'd actually go ahead with it. Last year we went on the spur of the moment during early August when there weren't as many things clamoring for my attention as there are a week before a new school year begins. Now it was the end of summer, I hadn't had a paycheck since June, and my son needed running shoes for cross country, among other expenses. Perhaps it would be better to save money by staying home.

But I really wanted to get to the ocean.

I told my son I'd take him to get running shoes that afternoon, and on the way to pick him up, I received the most exciting news that felt like an answer to a prayer! My husband was at his summer job, and his boss asked him if he wanted to take a break and help himself to some food. Although he was hungry, he wasn't interested in what was offered and decided to stay put. He then asked his boss for a couple days off so we could go to the ocean and explained that we don't have any specific plans but would figure out something, as we did last year. Instantly, a friend of mine pulled up on her bike and talked with my husband's boss. She and my husband recognized each other and began talking. He told her we were planning to go to Rhode Island the following day and had to make plans for a place to stay. It turns out she and her family rented a big beach house for the month that would be vacant for the exact same days that we wanted to be in Rhode Island. Next thing I knew, I received a text from my friend saying that we had a place to stay on Great Island in Narragansett! I couldn't believe it!

That is what I call "engaging the magic." Had my husband taken a break to get food, he wouldn't have crossed paths with my friend, and the invitation wouldn't have manifested. How perfect is that?

We were so excited that we left a few hours after he got home from work and arrived at our destination at 12:30 a.m. Even though it was dark outside, I could feel the salty air as we drove along and were surrounded almost entirely by water. I felt like Goldilocks exploring the house to decide which bed I liked best - and fell asleep promptly!

Needless to say, we had the best time in Narragansett. The house was incredible. The location was unbelievable. The weather was perfect. I took more than 700 pictures.

We spent three afternoons balancing rocks on the beach at Scarborough Beach, Black Point, Point Judith, and other locations. I will write about that in a separate post.

While packing up after our first afternoon on Scarborough Beach, we ran into an older couple - both native Rhode Islanders. The woman was walking along picking up sponges that had been deposited on the beach by high tide, and she taught me what to look for and how to dry them so they can be used for painting. This was another gift because I love to paint with sponges!

The next morning, I got up at 5:30 a.m. and headed to Point Judith to catch a glorious sunrise.

Later, we went out for breakfast and then stopped into a store owned by a couple of rock balancers. Before we left, I noticed sand dollars in the display case and asked the man if he sells them. Sand dollars always remind me of my grandfather, who died when I was 17. He wintered in Florida and brought me back a sand dollar along with a postcard that told a story about sand dollars. The store owner replied that he doesn't sell them, but one day a man came along and gave him a bunch. My husband took notice and exclaimed that he saw a big bucket of sand dollars from the balcony where we ate breakfast overlooking the seaport. We found the bucket, and a fisherman walking by said we could have as many as we wanted because they'd been sitting there for a month. So I added sand dollars to my collection of ocean treasures and gifts from the universe.

After another afternoon balancing rocks on a beach adjacent to Point Judith Lighthouse, we decided to cook up a meal of vegetables (that we brought from our own garden) and fresh sea scallops. When we stopped at a seafood market along the harbor, we happened to be the lucky customers and received fresh scallops and swordfish for free! It was another matter of perfect timing - showing up on the right day at the right time. And the meal was delicious! We savored it on the upstairs deck while watching the sun set.

The next morning, I woke up at 5:30 again and headed back to Point Judith for another pastel dream of a sunrise.

Then I retreated to a quiet spot on the rocks at Camp Cronin for some simple, solitary, sunrise rock balancing. I can't remember ever feeling more in my element!

We spent our last afternoon (Wednesday) in Narragansett at Camp Cronin/Point Judith Lighthouse. The older couple we met on the beach two days prior had told us there would be really big waves on Wednesday because of a hurricane somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, and this was the case. The wind made rock balancing challenging, and I opted to sit on the rocks near where I had balanced rocks that morning and appreciate it with all my senses, for we would have to return home soon.

If my husband were writing, his account would differ from mine, for we did a fair amount of exploring on our own. He engaged with the locals more than I did - even when he balanced rocks. It was easy to find our way around, and of course we also enjoyed our time together. The trip was magical from start to finish, and we were filled to the brim with gratitude. It's so exciting to find new places to love and to be so in the flow! I returned home inspired deeply by people's generosity and the goodness that can transpire when you open up and engage with life.

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The photographs in this blog (except for those attributed to other owners) and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

I had no idea that Tchaikovsky could take me to the places I went to tonight under the stars at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center (SPAC) with the Philadelphia Orchestra! The venue is a beautiful, open-air amphitheater that also happens to be where my mother spent a 34-year career. It wasn't the first time I went there since she died two and a half months ago. However, it was, by far, the most emotionally powerful!

My daughter, husband, and his brother's family of three visiting from Colorado sat on the sloped lawn with me. I was in a reverent mood and expected a level of decorum around me that honored my mom's spirit and life work. How wonderful it was to be there as the sun set behind the amphitheater, following a sun shower that painted a rainbow across the sky (pictured, below, over the building in which my mom worked).

Photo taken by my friend, Faye Mihuta

It was the first time I was at SPAC with my daughter since my mom died, and it felt so right to be there with her. She understood completely where my head and heart were at, for hers were in the same place. It also was a special night because my sister was with our dad, sitting in my parents' seats inside the amphitheater. (It also was my sister's first time at SPAC since our mom died, and the rainbow pictured above greeted her.)

The first half of the program included Joaquin Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez for guitar and orchestra, featuring Montenegrin guitarist, Milos Karadaglic. During the piece, the sky was dark, and crickets chirped in the distance. It occurred to me that my mom would have loved the performance because she was so passionate about guitar. It also occurred to me that, although my mom's spirit is always in the air at SPAC, if any evening could pull her away from the formless realm back to SPAC, it would be tonight - for my dad, my sister (who isn't "into" orchestra), my daughter, and I all were there. That was a first! The only one missing was our middle sibling who lives out of the area. During a guitar solo, my daughter and I started sniffling at the same time, for we both realized the significance of us all being there on this particular evening.

During intermission, my daughter and I went down to the amphitheater to find my dad and sister and talked with them and a couple of my mom's friends until intermission was over. We stood in the same spot in which I dreamed of my mother smiling and walking by as I spoke with a few people during the first dream I had of her following her death. It just so happened that's where we ran into one another.

After intermission, the orchestra performed Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6 in B minor, op. 74, Pathetique - the composer's final, completed symphony. It was composed in 1893, the year he died, and premiered nine days before his death in October. I was getting a little tired but appreciated my surroundings with all my senses. I imagined my mom sitting inside with my dad in their special seats, dressed impeccably. As the symphony played, I closed my eyes and allowed the music to conjure images in my mind - of a ballroom filled with women in gowns and men in suits, dancing, in pursuit of love. I was so glad to be at SPAC and reflected on why I had rejected so many of my mother's invitations to attend classical performances in recent years. The first time I attended a performance this summer with one of her former coworkers, I ran into my dad, who couldn't believe I was there because I "hate ballet." Well, that was never the case, but apparently it was the impression I gave. I think expressing disinterest toward the ballet and orchestra was just another way to push back against my mom and cultivate a separate identity. Sometimes, when something means so much to a person, it becomes more about the relationship than whether or not you actually enjoy the event to which you've been invited.

Now that she's gone, that boundary no longer exists. I can go to the orchestra and enjoy it! I wished my mom could know that.

I continued to savor listening to live orchestra in a setting infused with my mom's spirit. During the unconventional Adagio lamentoso finale, I opened my eyes and let images of the SPAC grounds at night and all the summers I spent there flood my heart and mind. And then I became aware of another presence. My own spirit was there, too: The little girl given the special honor of accompanying her parents to the ballet or orchestra rather than staying home with the babysitter. The young pianist who dreamed of someday being a soloist with the orchestra. The elementary school student with the biggest crush on her music teachers - one of whom worked at SPAC during the summer. (How thrilling it was to see her and other teacher friends who were ushers and gate attendants!) The adolescent who anticipated the thrill of meeting the performers backstage after the show. Back then, SPAC was my summer universe, and there were so many people there who were so familiar and influential in my life - people brought together by a mutual appreciation of the arts.

It was like a SPAC-based life review that also included a memory of bringing my young children to an orchestra performance that ended with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture (complete with cannons). When the walkway lights were turned up at the beginning of intermission, my son (who was about five years old at the time), stood up and started walking up the walkway, exclaiming with delight, "I loved it!" - an unforgettable response to his first orchestra experience.

All of a sudden, I was with all of the old, familiar faces again, along with my mom and the ghost of my many, younger selves. I felt deeply grateful for all the time I spent at SPAC growing up. The symphony's slow, mournful finale brought out all these memories and feelings as if by some kind of musical magic. I began weeping silently but uncontrollably. I've never cried like that in a public place, but I suppose it was bound to happen sometime at SPAC, and why not below the trees and stars, with crickets accompanying Tchaikovsky and so many people who loved my mom in the audience? It was a safe place to cry - spacious and fortunately quite dark! But the tears were not of sadness. Not at all! They were of the most profound gratitude. I sent out a sincere prayer - Thank you, Mom - to greet her wherever she is, and hoped my deep gratitude would bless her soul.

After we all went our separate ways, the tears continued to flow all the way home as an impossibly huge, 3/4 waning gibbous moon floated into the sky up ahead.

Postscript: I didn't read the program notes until a full 24 hours after the concert, after I finished writing this piece. I found it interesting that Tchaikovsky wrote that he "wept profusely" as he composed the symphony in his mind!

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The photographs in this blog and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Last weekend, I set a goal to go on three more adventures before the month is over. I didn't have anything in particular in mind other than to engage the magic of the "yes" energy wave I've been riding all summer long. As if on cue, a friend contacted me to say she was driving home from Vermont and passed by some rock balances that made her feel peaceful and also made her think of me. I know someone in an online rock balancing community who lives in Vermont and wondered if he might have done them. We had been meaning to get together for quite some time to balance rocks in a beautiful setting, and I didn't realize how close he lived to us until I asked him if he was responsible for the balances my friend had noticed. Turns out he wasn't, but the wheels in my head were set in motion, and my husband discovered he had a couple days off in a row for the first time all summer. Less than 24 hours later, we were on the road headed for Vermont for our first experience camping away from home in our RV and our first play date with another rock balancer.
We scored a private, wooded site at a campground just outside of Bennington, with a babbling brook only a few yards away. It was a cold night, and the sky was clear and dark, with no discernible light pollution and a very late-rising moon - which combined to reveal more stars and celestial objects than I've ever seen, including a few meteors streaking across the sky. It was so quiet.

The following afternoon, we met Robert, our fellow rock balancer, in person for the first time and retreated to the upper reaches of the northwest branch of the Deerfield River in Searsburg. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and the very first trees (few and far between) were turning red.

It was illuminating to balance rocks with someone much more experienced. I am an eager beginner, my husband has been balancing regularly for the past 15 months, and Robert - a kindred spirit - has been at it for several years. For him, balancing rocks is a daily, spiritual practice.
I warmed up by balancing some fairly hefty, single rocks vertically. I love to interconnect with the energy of the rocks and discover their point of balance, which is inherent and just waiting to be found. It's a meditative, centering activity.

Then I set to work on some simple balances, noticing which rocks seemed to be calling to me.

Meanwhile, the men concentrated on their own balances.

In the photo below, if you draw a line diagonally from the bottom, left corner to the top, right corner, my balances are in the half that falls within the bottom, right triangle (including the balance in the foreground), and theirs were in the other half. We lined the river with balances!

My husband's back was bothering him, so he wasn't capable of his best work. However, when I compared my self-described "baby balances" to his and Robert's, it was clear they had pushed through some mental barriers and were working on a more advanced level than me. For starters, every now and then I'd hear loud thuds as large rocks they were working with fell to the ground. (To avoid injury, it's important to wear protective footwear and/or to be vigilant.) That was because they were taking risks, pushing limits, thinking outside of the box - whereas I was playing it safer. I have come to regard rock balancing as a reflection of one's willingness to take risks, think creatively, and trust in life - as illustrated by some of Robert's balances in the photo, below.

Their work with rocks inspires me, along with stories shared about their lives and Robert's profound faith and trust that life will provide what he needs. (We engaged in no small talk.) These are unconventional, caring, loving, free spirits who live their lives with deep integrity and without concern for material possessions or pleasing others. There is real freedom in knowing how little you truly need in order to live an authentic, satisfying life - a freedom that reduces fear and inspires me greatly. My sense is that many members of the international rock balancing community have tapped into this energy, and I am inspired daily by seeing the balances - sometimes extremely elaborate ones - that are shared online. They convince me that virtually anything is possible if we really and truly put our minds to it and open ourselves to inspiration and grace.

If you don't take risks that sometimes result in toppling rocks, you can't take it to the next level. I'm talking about both rocks and life. Toppling and momentary "failures" are a crucial part of advancing. By being willing to take risks, you engage a different level of energy that is ultimately more satisfying than playing it safe and keeping it neat and symmetrical. You get to learn what you're capable of, expand your limitations, and revise your conceptions of what is possible. It doesn't mean that life (or balancing rocks) is easy, but you realize that you have the inner resources to work with what comes along and to roll with it. You allow the rocks to guide you, instead of imposing your will on them, so that you are co-creators. You also develop patience. For instance, while working on the balance in the photo below, it took a quite a while for me to find the balance point of the large, pointy rock. But I felt drawn to that rock and just knew I could connect with its point of balance. It seemed to volunteer and want to be balanced! And finally, it happened. And for a while, that was good enough. But eventually I returned and added to it.

When you take it to the next level, you aren't concerned with balancing just one, individual rock at a time. You expand your awareness to focus on relationships between two or more rocks at a time and how the relationship affects the balance points. You become more aware of the whole and how everything fits together. It's a different way of thinking than focusing linearly on one single rock at a time. The photo below shows another of Robert's balances.

By the time we left several hours later, I couldn't begin to count all the balances we'd created along the river. And the conversations were every bit as inspiring as our natural surroundings.

But there was even more inspiration awaiting on our way to dinner, when Robert shared with me a presentation binder that illustrated how he has introduced children as young as three years old to the joyful practice of balancing rocks. I teach kindergarten but haven't introduced my students to rock balancing because I felt they were too young. However, seeing the interest of even younger children has opened my eyes. With proper ground rules and supervision, I think rock balancing could be an enriching activity for my students - perhaps a quiet center during play time. I might even keep a small basket of rocks in the Quiet Tent for a child to arrange and/or balance in solitude. There are so many mini lessons to be modeled and shared!

We had such a great time on the Deerfield River with our new friend. The energy was wonderful and positive. Although I haven't figured out my two remaining adventures for the month, I have a strong feeling they will involve rocks and water.

The photographs in this blog (except for those attributed to other owners) and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."
-John Lennon, "Imagine"

I recently spent three days at Omega Institute for the sixth annual Mindfulness and Education Conference: Bringing Mindfulness to Children Grades K-12.
I had wanted to attend the conference for the past few years but this
year received a full scholarship that finally made it possible. My guess
is that about 300 people attended the conference, and it was powerful
to gather with that many like-minded educators who value holistic
education, social-emotional learning, and mindfulness. Actually, I've
never experienced anything like it! I have a few friends online who
teach in schools committed to a holistic approach to education, and the college
from which I received my master's degree offers a holistic,
student-centered educational experience and a faculty that attracts a
diverse and alternative-minded student body. One faculty member
literally "wrote the book" (several, actually) on holistic, progressive,
and alternative education. It's been eight years since I completed the
program, and it was my last experience of being in community with so
many like-minded educators until going to Omega this summer. For the
past few years, I have felt like a fish out of water in the current
educational environment and have questioned how much longer I can
continue in the profession. I attended the conference hoping to connect
with kindred spirits and to be inspired.

Buddha outside Ram Dass Library, Omega Institute

A passion for social-emotional learning brought me to the teaching profession in the first place. After trying to implement the MindUP curriculum in my classroom
for the past three years with limited success, I was in need of practical
suggestions. Is it possible to implement such a curriculum
successfully without support, given the present realities of public
education? How do you fit it into an already packed school day?

Keynote speakers included Jack Kornfield, Amishi Jha, and Daniel Rechtschaffen. Social-emotional learning expert, Linda Lantieri,
also was scheduled to present but was unable to attend due to health
issues. I took so many notes at the conference, and there is so much I
want to share, but I am organizing this post around the ideas that stood
out the most for me, indicated in bold. Clicking on the numerous
hyperlinks included throughout the text will provide you with a wealth
of information about mindfulness in education if you are are interested
in learning more about it. I'm also including a list of book
recommendations at the end.

The major understandings and inspirations I took away from the conference are as follows:

Mindfulness must be wed with compassion.

It's not mindfulness
unless it's also heartfulness! Teach children to discover their worth,
to value one another, to befriend themselves. Honor them by holding a
beam of love and understanding. Teach them not only how to calm their
mind and focus their attention but also how to be wise and loving
beings.

Mindfulness and compassion training should not
be something you're
forced to do but an invitation to well-being. It is a process of paying
kind attention. The teaching of mindfulness and compassion is not
religious; it promotes the development of universal human values, or what H. H. the Dalai Lama refers to as secular ethics. It is about teaching children and teachers to train their mind, regulate their emotions, and be more loving and compassionate.

Establish
the classroom as a place of mindfulness, for tending and befriending
ourselves. Consider beginning mindfulness exercises with a bell or a
poem. Depending on the needs and energy of the group, there are times
when sitting, walking, or heart practices are best.

Trace thoughts and feelings to the body.

Mindfulness of thoughts and feelings must be traced to the body - to where you feel them. One way to practice this with children is to put your hand in the air (where the thoughts are), and trace thoughts
down the arm to the part of the body they're attached to. The first step is noticing the thoughts and
tracking down to the sensations in the body. The next step is to bring self-care to the body. Our body needs so
much love and compassion when our head is spinning!

I
realized that I tend to live in my head. Since the conference, I have
reminded myself to drop down into my body, and it is a powerful
practice! I did this once in a doctor's office when I was in the midst
of my "white coat" anxiety habit (in which my body seems to have a mind
of its own), and the results were quite profound. Another time, I was
awakened during the night by a thunderstorm, and immediately my mind
started spinning. It was right after the conference, and my mind was
trying to make sense of why I experienced such an emotional response to
the conference. (More about that later.) Within a few minutes, my mind
had created a tidy theory and was quite pleased to have wrapped it up so
nicely. But there still was tension in my body. Then I remembered to
sink into my body and practice mindfulness - to feel the sensations and
hold them in kindness and compassion. A storm had come along, and I got
caught up in a whirlwind of thought for a while, until I remembered and
practiced - and quieted my mind. A couple hours later, I was awakened by
another clap of thunder, and my immediate response was to practice. It
was as if the thunder clap was a meditation bell! I sank down into my
body and felt the sensations, thus strengthening that response. And that
is what it is all about. Making an analogy between meditation and
exercise, one of the speakers at the conference said that each time you
bring your mind back is the equivalent of one rep. I love that.

I've
also found that sometimes it helps to physically touch the place in
which I experience the sensation in my body - for example, putting a
hand on the solar plexus (where I often feel a stab when I remember my
mom has died) or the heart. When I am falling asleep, I sometimes like
to rest one hand on the pelvic valley and the other hand on the solar
plexus and become aware of the wave of breath between those two areas.
It is like ocean waves and is so calming. Likewise, you can teach
children to focus on their breath by inviting them to put one hand on
their heart and the other on their belly.

Create a safe place.

Establish safety first! Do whatever you can
to help a child feel emotionally safe and relaxed and present in their
bodies. We must get kids into a place where their parasympathetic
nervous system is in control so they can grow and learn. Help them to
understand that they are not alone in their suffering - that we are all
in the same boat! Help them to see that other children have divorced
parents, have felt bullied, have fears, etc. Let them see each others'
beauty and troubles. Teach them of their own goodness and vulnerability.
Teach them mindfulness and heartfulness when they're calm. Young
children need to learn what it means to "pay attention."

Include movement first.

Younger children have so much energy
that you need to allow them to
release a little through physical movements before asking them to sit
and breathe. Include a movement activity before attempting seated
mindfulness practice. When kids are antsy throughout the day, do yoga
poses.

I find this is also true for myself. It's always
easier for me to do seated practice following yoga or another form of
physical exercise.

Begin with yourself.

For years, I have struggled with how
to teach focused awareness to a whole group of children - some of whom
struggle with attention control
or can't sit still - without any assistance in the classroom. When I try
to lead a core practice in mindful awareness, inevitably one or two
students will effectively sabotage the whole experience by acting out,
seeking attention, etc. For example, in the MindUp curriculum, there is a
daily core practice of focused listening (to the sound of a resonant
bell) and deep, belly breathing. Each year, I have grown weary of trying
to manage behavior throughout mindfulness practice - and abandoned it
altogether because the behavior management is so exhausting. But I
always was pleasantly surprised when some children later begged to
listen to the bell ring because "We haven't done it in a long time."
They must like how it feels to do the practice, and I don't want to
allow the behavior of a small minority to ruin the experience for the
whole!

One of the biggest realizations I brought home
from the conference is that if you can't control anything else in your
school environment, the most basic step you can take is to maintain a daily mindfulness practice.
Even if I'm teaching in an environment that doesn't actively embrace
the benefits of mindfulness, I can do it in my room, in whatever
capacity I can manage. Some years I might be able to do more than
others. The first step is for me to practice mindfulness every
day. Before school and even during the school day when the kids are out
of the room, I can turn off the lights, lock the door, and do it! Do it
on my own, deliberately. Make it an individual practice until the
cavalry comes. Or if the opportunity arises, link up informally with
others who are doing it.

Rather than throw my hands up in frustration because I'm not able to teach mindfulness the way I'd like to, focus on being
mindful. That is a great start! And if that's all I can manage, then
that is enough! It is a worthy accomplishment to succeed at that first
step. If you're doing it, you're doing a good job! Success is not
opening the refrigerator or turning on the cell phone!

The missing piece: Caring for teachers

Teachers cannot solve the
whole problem of fixing what is wrong with public education. Because we
are the ones on the front line, we need to cultivate self-compassion
- so we can stay in the job! Someone at the conference said they
realized they had to make a choice between changing their mind or
leaving their job.

Our schools aren't failing. Our kids
aren't failing. Our schools are failing our teachers. The missing piece
is taking care of our teachers. When you're doing your best in an
impossible situation with an
impossible workload and your professionalism is questioned when you act
with deep integrity on behalf of children, and your core values are not
reflected anywhere in the curriculum, and you don't feel supported or valued,
how can you create a safe space for children? Our schools are filled
with stressed out teachers who are expected to do more with less each
year. Children absorb the teacher's energy and ultimately are the ones
losing out despite the teacher's most sincere and heartfelt efforts. The
teacher's state of consciousness is the unwritten curriculum.

If
our schools fail to care adequately for teachers, it is essential that
teachers practice self-care. It is so much more satisfying and
empowering than being a victim and squandering precious time and energy
by complaining and feeling bad. That is precisely how I became serious
about nature photography. I challenged myself to connect with beauty
every single day. It was a way for me to unwind and re-attune after an
exhausting day at work and often occurred during a walk (for physical
exercise is also essential to mental health). Now I've added some quiet
time for seated meditation, for I find that it makes a huge difference
in the quality of my day. It clears my mind, weeds the garden of my
senses, and is time well spent. It's so easy to get caught up in the
endless stream of work during the school year, but it is essential to
learn how to put work aside and take time to care for ourselves and
enjoy our families. It sounds so basic, but with the extra demands put
on teachers now, the need for self-care becomes more urgent than ever.

Keynote and Breakout Presentations

Jennifer Cohen Harper, founder of Little Flower Yoga
(The School Yoga Project) encouraged us to be our students' superhero
and to have a plan for when we're not feeling like a superhero - a song,
breath work, etc. Everything is harder when you're exhausted, so give
everyone time to relax during the school day. She asserted that children
make their own experiences and meaning when you slow down and leave
lots of space. There's no need to process everything! Allow some
experiences to simply be. And if what you're doing isn't working, stay connected to your kids! That is the most important thing.

Her program is based on five elements:

Connect - with the world around us, to other people, and to our own inner experience

Breathe - nose to belly breathing

Move - joyful experience

Focus - teach how to pay attention, mindfulness activities

Relax - guided visualization or storytelling but also quiet time

She emphasized that the relaxation element is crucial and makes everything else you do during the day more potent.

Cofounders of the Holistic Life Foundation (Mindful Moment Program), Andy Gonzalez, Atman Smith, and Ali Smith,
described how they use guided visualization, yoga asanas, breathing,
movement, chair-based
exercises, games, and student leaders in their work with schools. They
underscored the mentoring component (in which older kids help younger
kids) and the use of students leading their peers through mindfulness
exercises. In order to become a leader, a child must model good
behavior. An added benefit is that kids go home and naturally teach
their parents (and probably their dolls and stuffed animals, too)!

Daniel Rechtschaffen, who facilitated the whole conference, led us through a "popcorn thoughts" activity from his book, The Way of Mindful Education.
It is a great exercise for elementary school-aged children. Explain
that your mind makes thoughts like a popcorn maker makes popcorn.
Instruct children to sit quietly and focus on their breathing. Whenever a
thought comes into their mind, they raise their hand (like a popcorn
kernel popping) and let it fall as the thought falls away.

Amishi Jha's
presentations were energetic and engaging and truly wonderful, but I
don't want to get into the neuroscience of attention here and encourage
you to visit her website and/or the website of Dan Siegel (who wasn't at the conference but is a major researcher).

The most poignant part of the conference for me was a guided visualization led by Jack Kornfield.
Up until this time, I was interested but not emotionally vested in the
conference. After a very tough school year, I was at the end of my rope,
unsure about returning to my job in the fall. I'd even revised my
resume and applied for a non-teaching position right before leaving for
the conference. But I was open to inspiration and miracles. Jack
Kornfield invited us to see ourselves in the toughest situation we've
experienced at work. In the middle of it, there is a knock on the door,
and a luminous figure (for me it was H. H. the Dalai Lama) enters my
body and takes over managing the situation while I witness it as an
invisible presence. A while later, he goes back to the door and on his
way out gives me a gift and whispers some words. To my great surprise,
somewhere in the middle of the visualization I realized that, lurking
below my residual feelings about my most awful experience, there is
still a pulse in my teacher body. I was very surprised to discover this!
We took a short break, during which I retreated to my room to release
some tears. When we returned, I looked into Jack Kornfield's eyes and
told him that I'm a teacher who was this close to not going back
for another year but realized during the visualization that there is
still a heartbeat. He held his hands to his heart, expressed gratitude,
and held my hands in his. From this point forward, I was fully engaged!

On the final day of the conference, there was a panel discussion
of administrators and teachers who have put mindfulness into practice
in their own schools. There were many times during this panel discussion
when I found myself choking back tears and almost needed to leave the
room - because what the panelists and audience members described with
such joy was both so beautiful, hopeful, and inspiring and in
stark contrast to my own experience. Here are some examples of what some
schools - both independent and public - are doing to promote a deep
culture of mindfulness and compassion:

Begin faculty meetings with a couple minutes of mindful breathing, or lead them in a moment of mindfulness.

Faculty gratitude circles: Reflect on what you are grateful for that
happened in the last week, and send out intentions for next week

Yoga class for teachers

Offer stress reduction workshops for families

I love the idea of a breathe room! But paring it down to something simpler, you could establish a breathing space in a classroom. I have a single-person "Quiet Tent" in a quiet corner of my classroom right next to my desk (which is my
private, quiet space). I've always allowed children who need some quiet
space to retreat to the Quiet Tent when they need to. However, it also
could be a place for mindful breathing once I teach them how to do it.

Someone
else spoke of bringing children into nature as an important part of
mindfulness. Read them some stories or poems (perhaps Mary Oliver or
Wendell Berry) to open their eyes. Then invite them to write or draw. As
a photographer, I might show them an image I captured and ask them to
consider why I took the picture. What drew me to that image? Where is
the beauty? How did it speak to me?

Pond outside the Sanctuary at Omega Institute

There was a teacher from Manhattan's independent Blue School on the panel. I had learned of Blue School from a panel discussion during the 2009 Vancouver Peace Summit
that included two founding members of the Blue Man Group. The school
looks like this dreamer's dream come true! The Blue School teacher
described a joyful, holistic environment that includes singing bowls,
singing lullabies, yoga poses, art, breathing, and children leading
breathing. She spoke of so much goodness that I couldn't write it all
down! The school also has a mindfulness blog, and parents drop in for
mindfulness on Friday afternoons. Wow.

The general
consensus was that mindfulness programs did not encounter anticipated
resistance but spread with joy - though it's best to take the time to
grow them slowly. One panelist suggested starting in kindergarten by
training kindergarten teachers and then filtering it up. They also
emphasized the idea of teachers practicing together. Even if there
aren't any school-wide mindfulness or yoga classes for faculty and
staff, a small group of colleagues could meet and practice mindful
breathing for ten minutes before school, to set the tone for the day.
It's much like having a workout buddy. You are less likely to skip your
exercise if there is someone else to whom you are accountable.
Similarly, if your school does not have a room devoted to mindfulness,
you can cultivate an environment or create a space in your own room. If
all else fails, simply maintaining your own mindfulness practice makes a
big difference!

If you do encounter resistance
in implementing a mindfulness program, there is lots of neuroscience
data to back it up. Dan Siegel's book, Brainstorm, is a good
resource. You also can emphasize that you're not stealing time from the
rest of the school day curriculum but are replacing pieces that don't
work with what does work, and you are educating children to take care of
themselves. Furthermore, you can ask families to notice that their
children are coming home more relaxed.

Closing

At the end of the conference, we were guided to reflect
on the ways in which we were inspired and what we need as we go back
into the world and return to our classrooms. My greatest inspiration was
discovering that there is a heart inside me still beating to teach in
ways that allow me to:

Reflect to others their own inner beauty and help them to love themselves

Open the hearts and minds of others to the beauty and interconnectedness of nature

Appreciate and acknowledge the light that shines through nature and
people - the essence that shines through the forms and connects us all.

My needs are to practice myself and to feel
valued in my work environment. I could begin by sharing with anyone who
might be interested what I have learned from the conference and through
my own experience. Perhaps I am mistaken in assuming nobody would be
interested. You never know until you try! (Postscript: Two days
after publishing this article, I received a bulk email from a teacher at
my school who wants to offer a yoga class once or twice a week so
colleagues can practice together!)

As I prepare to
return to my classroom in a few weeks, I will bring with me an excerpt
from a poem entitled "School Prayer" by Diane Ackerman, which Jack
Kornfield quoted. I intend to post it in a prominent spot and read it
daily:

---------------------------The photographs in this blog and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop
by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and
indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it
appears.

Monday, August 11, 2014

Did you see last night's lovely moonrise? Two months in a row, we have been graced with a "supermoon" that appeared larger than usual. And this time, I was intent on viewing it from a great location.

A photographer friend recently turned me on to The Photographer's Ephemeris (TPE) app, which is a fabulous resource for outdoor and landscape photography. You input a location and date, and it calculates the angles of the sun and moon relative to the location so you can plan photo shoots based on natural lighting. I had a few moonrise locations in mind and consulted TPE early in the day to determine whether conditions would be favorable. I visited one nearby spot that required a brief, steep hike and - knowing exactly where the moon would rise - realized some trees might obstruct the view. I also decided the location was too perilous to attempt at night.

My second location was a 45-minute drive into the Adirondacks, and although I was disappointed that the closer location wouldn't work out, I was grateful to know this ahead of time! A third option was to appreciate the moonrise from our dock, but I was in caught up in "YES" energy again and committed to following wherever it led - and it definitely was leading me to a new landscape involving water. I was determined to take full advantage of the beautiful, clear-sky, summer night! Besides, I had photographed from the dock the night before (and captured the moon's reflection on the water).

Since I would be alone, I needed to choose a safe location. Having consulted TPE, I decided on a small beach park on the shore of Lake George in Bolton Landing, with mountains in the background.

Although I traveled solo, an older couple was at the gazebo when I arrived, and when they left, another older couple arrived for the moonrise. From watching local news on TV, they knew what time the moonrise was supposed to occur but didn't factor in how our altitude (relative to the altitude of the mountains standing between the moon and us) affected the timing. This is something TPE calculates, so I knew to figure another half hour for the moon to rise above the mountains. In the meantime, we watched a steamboat go by.

The atmosphere on board sounded like a party!

A few minutes before we saw the first, orange glint of moon on top of the mountain, several other people arrived - all eager to see the moon. I was in good company, and everyone seemed a bit giddy with anticipation.

As it floated higher into the sky above the mountains, the orange hue faded against a darkened sky, and a chain of moonlight was cast across the lake. Moonrise, part two.

The shimmering light was mesmerizing, and lots of people were boating under the moonlight!

The drive home was sheer delight, with the moon beside me the whole way. When I got home, I transferred my photos to my laptop and shared one image via social media, along with many other people. It was a night when all eyes and many cameras were focused skyward. And how wonderful that so many people paused to notice and appreciate something beautiful that can be seen by everyone on the planet (as long as weather permits). It makes the world feel smaller. People gather in person and share online, and you can feel the collective energy, much like group meditation. Although I usually meditate on my own, when I do meditate with others, it's a completely different experience. I feel so supported and elevated by the energy of others. I loved spending an evening connected with others, near and far, who were moved by the same moon that was shining in my own back yard.

---------------------------The photographs in this blog and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop
by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and
indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it
appears.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

I have been so busy working on my new website! The site is not quite ready yet, but soon it will be the new home for my blog and some exciting projects that are in the works.

In the meantime, I've made a commitment to myself to meditate every day. Usually I do mindfulness meditation, but sometimes I do guided meditation in which there is instruction to visualize yourself in a place in which you feel most relaxed and at peace. The image that has been coming up for me is floating in my kayak on a leisurely, summer afternoon amidst luminous, white water lilies.

I wanted to share the sensation of floating gently from one exquisite water lily to the next, guided by joy and beauty. So I partnered with ambient musician, Roy Mattson, to produce a short video. I feel that Roy's shimmering, tinkling, radiating sounds provide a perfect voice for water lilies and the energy they emanate. I hope that by watching it, you will be transported into a state of relaxation!

---------------------------The photographs in this blog and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop
by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and
indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it
appears.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Many of my teacher friends have expressed sadness that August has arrived, bringing the beginning of a new school year closer in sight. However, I am certain there's still plenty of room for summer magic.

I woke up one recent morning knowing that I must get to the ocean, despite not having a plan for doing so. That very morning, I received an invitation that set the wheels in motion and brought me to Marblehead, Massachusetts six days later. Call it post-retreat energy if you will (and I do), but I've found myself saying yes to opportunities and possibilities that arise. I've been yearning for new energy and movement that brings me into greater alignment with my soul's calling. Sometimes the yearning has tasted like a river of tears because I've wanted it that intensely. There's something deep inside me that seeks manifestation, and I am convinced that I cannot make it happen by doing the same old things. Instead of finding excuses to remain within the confines of my comfort zone, I'm engaging new energy. It's as if I'm sending out a signal - like a flower ready to be pollinated - and the Universe is responding magnificently. Because this time I mean it andwill do whatever it takes!

So I set off solo for the coastal town of Marblehead with the intention of being inspired and creating an infrastructure for a new venture.

A friend whom I've known since childhood (when our families attended the same church), lives in Marblehead. Although we hadn't seen each other since high school when we were in jazz band together, circumstances brought us back into each others' orbit recently. His mom died a month after my mom, in the same hospice house, the same room, and even the same bed. Our moms knew each other, and his sister and I kept in contact as we traveled the anguishing path of caring for our very ill mothers. I held my two friends in my heart throughout our moms' final months, and knowing they were going through the same thing provided me with comfort and a sense of not being alone in this unfamiliar terrain. We continue to travel together as we adjust to the loss of our mothers, both of whom were such sweet, vibrant, and loving women.

So it felt right to travel to Marblehead for many reasons, including the thrill of a new landscape to photograph.

Marblehead Light Tower, Chandler Hovey Park

Not only did I have a friend to guide me around during my brief, barely 24-hour stay, but we also went to a book launch open house hosted by a local photographer who had just published a beautiful, coffee table style book of Marblehead images. I was interested in learning about the process he went through to publish his book - which was a wealth of information about both the process and the area.

With my gear in tow, we set out to see some sights and had hoped to be in a good location to catch a sunset but got delayed. When we returned to my friend's house, I planned to put my tripod in the trunk for the evening but then spotted an irresistible view right at the end of the street.

It was low tide, but it was good enough for me! Filled with peace and gratitude, I lingered in the stillness of the quiet harbor for as long as I could.

Although I wanted to get a good night's sleep to prepare for the long ride
home the next day, my friend had mentioned that the sunrises are amazing, and I knew I couldn't resist getting up at an ungodly
hour to take advantage of my one morning on the coast. The weather forecast was perfect for sunrise photography. Before falling asleep, I studied the photos in the book and knew that the author had fallen in love with his surroundings and come to know them just as I have come to know and love the river that runs by my door - the river that has awakened me to beauty all around, no matter where I am. So the book became my sunrise guide, and I mapped out a few locations to try in the morning. I was so excited that I barely could sleep!

At 4:50 a.m., I got up and headed for Crocker Park, which offers great views of Marblehead Harbor. I waited to catch the first glimpse of the sun on the horizon. It was huge and bright pink. Although I wasn't able to capture the deep pink hue of the early sunrise, these images were satisfying nonetheless.

Besides myself, there were just a few older people who were out for a morning walk (a.k.a. "the dawn patrol"). Everyone who passed by asked me (in a nearly reverent tone of voice) if I had photographed the sunrise, and one man told me it was the best sunrise all week.

I felt like I was riding a wave of positive energy which continued when I found this on a bathroom mirror. (I plan to pay it forward!)

Then I headed to Fort Sewall for more spectacular views of Marblehead Harbor.

If I had stayed longer, I could have gotten to know the nuances of
the landscape better and fallen more deeply in love with it. To connect
with the spirit and the light of a place is such an intimate joy. To
know what angle of sunlight makes it come alive and tell its story. To
know how it is affected by the tides. To discover the secret places and small details that
are overshadowed by the more obvious features of the landscape once
your eyes have adjusted.

Inspired by gorgeous photos of rocks and waves posted in online rock balancing communities, I longed to be on a beach with rocks that I could balance. My friend brought me to the perfect spot: Preston Beach right on the border of Marblehead and Swampscott.

A quiet beach visited by local residents, it offered a fantastic supply of rocks. I was too tired to concentrate on anything beyond basic rock stacking, but stacking the different colors, shapes, and textures yielded pleasing results that drew the attention of curious birds.

As the tide rolled in and covered the whole beach except for the rocky area toward the back wall, I was alone on the beach photographing the waves and birds that threatened the stability of the stacked rocks but did not topple them. I love the imagery of balance amidst life's waves.

Marblehead provided me with the best photo sessions to date, and it took a long time to go through all the images and select my favorites. I wish I could have stayed another day to become better acquainted with this lovely coastal town, but I needed to return home.

However, making this trip drew upon the energy that has been building throughout the summer and unlocked something in me. I returned home on a wave of beautiful, exciting energy. It seems that saying yes is the key that unlocks the door of my self-imposed prison. Over the past few weeks, since returning from a spiritual retreat, I felt the door of that prison opening, and now I feel it has been burst open for good. My relationship to unsatisfying circumstances has changed, for the door is now open to greater freedom. The freedom has been ever-present, but it's the realization that makes the difference. As Glinda, the Good Witch said to Dorothy, "You had the power all along, my dear!" I'm glad to realize this while I'm still alive!

In his novel, The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho wrote, "When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream." This is what seems to be happening, and I am rather amazed - and deeply grateful to those who are showing up to assist me.

This morning, I dreamed of a prison very close to me being closed all of a sudden
because there no longer was a need for it. All the prisoners were released, and the prison was being transformed into
something else. Later in the morning, I received a phone call out of the blue that paved the way for new opportunities and filled me with joy. I am beginning to believe that I can manifest my dreams.

I intend to continue meeting this wonderful, fresh energy with YES. It is an exciting experiment thus far! At times the energy feels so powerful, like high tide rolling in. However, I know I must maintain a daily practice of meditation, yoga, and exercise - a commitment I have made to myself to remain aware, balanced, and grounded.

---------------------------The photographs in this blog and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop
by selecting a "custom print" in whatever size you prefer and
indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it
appears.

RIVER BLISS HAS MOVED!

About Me

When you fall in love with a river, you find that it is connected with everything else.
Greetings from the Upper Hudson River! "River bliss" is my name for the state of consciousness I experience while floating on the river in my kayak. It is my medicine for inner peace, clarity, and creativity. This blog is my attempt to share beauty, peace, and awe through images and words that greet me in stillness on the river and in other sacred places. It is my greatest joy to awaken and inspire others through discovering and sharing magic moments, and I invite you to join me on this journey.